Gaara Evolution
by Hatheny Lurey Dralaw
Summary: A character study for Gaara that turned into fluff in the second half. Happy Birthday, Gaara! WARNING: slight dusting of shounen ai and spoilers for everything Gaara-related in the series. Also contains traces of Rock Lee.
1. Chapter 1

_no, no-one would understand_

_even his features were different from everyone else's'_

_he looked like his mother, though his siblings took after his father._

_no, no-one could understand him…_

_always hated, never loved, never experiencing anything taken for granted by others around him_

Birthed by blood and sand, birthed with a curse, he stopped distinguishing himself from the monster.

_child-killer._

Distanced himself so much he stopped growing, stopped understanding other people.

Only desiring blood.

If he could end other lives, his own existence would be verified in their blood.

Loving only himself, living only for himself.

His only means of survival, of self-continuation.

_blood._

Before his uncle died, he had wanted desperately to be human and to understand love, that intangible, irresistible thing.

After his uncle's death he realised that no-one would give it to him because of what he was – they would always keep trying to kill him.

He was forcibly cut-off from the rest of humanity.

_through hate._

_through fear._

_through pain._

_through blood._

If they desired his death, he would give them their own death, vindicating and verifying his existence as a monster and a weapon, proving the reason of his existence with every life he took in lieu of his own.

_he was one only needed for his power and abilities, never seeking love and destroying it where he found it –_

_destroying it when it threatened him._

But hearts have other ideas, and he still felt the pain.

Love between others, that which he denied, that which he was denied, said he did not need, did not ask for, did not examine – that still reached him, hurt him, and what hurt him he sought to destroy.

_only by destroying others stronger than himself could he become stronger; his meaning of existence could be verified._

_bonds were threatening and confusing._

_that which threatened his ideals; the ideals that kept him steeped in blood and death and violence; ideals he created for himself to keep himself from hurting; from pain – he destroyed whatever threatened them._

_but a twig on its own will snap in an instant, whereas a group of twigs supporting each other will not break so easily._

_such is the case with bonds._

Seeking to destroy one whose bonds were threatened by him led to his own defeat, and slow realisation.

Living only for yourself leads to loneliness and defeat.

One cannot live for oneself because one lives in a world with thousands of other people.

Those people affect you.

There are those that can become precious to you, and whom you grow stronger to protect.

If there are people in this world who definitely exist and who can become precious to him, that would mean in turn, if he existed, then he could also become precious to someone.

Bonds between people are essential.

Bonds are true strength.

But what to do now?

His old way is shattered.

One must evolve, grow.

Life without change is stagnation, and that which stagnates, rots.

He did not want his existence to end, because there was a possibility he could find precious people, become precious to others, build bonds, become stronger.

A new way.

But one needs a new meaning for a new way.

His old way had no meaning any more.

To become meaningless was to have an end to the purpose of his existence, to have no purpose implies that he could not exist, that there was no reason that he should exist because there was nothing tying him to the world.

He could not cease to exist.

He needed his meaning, his strength.

_t__hat which he forsook so many years ago, he took up again._

Reaching out so carefully, so delicately, so cautiously, testing, examining, analysing to see how it was done, how it could be done, how he could do it himself.

Trying to be human again after so many years of being a monster.

Trying to understand again, trying to reach out, to re-establish communication, unknowing of whether or not if would be reciprocated, _wanted;_ whether _he_ would be received, wanted, and knowing he had to try anyway.

Because if he didn't try, he thought he might fade away.

But that fear, that tentative _trying_ was better than non-existence.

It gave him new meaning, a new reason to try every day.

And it was something he needed.

_to be strong was to exist._

_to be needed was to exist._

_he needed to be needed._

He needed to understand what it was that made other people needed by each other.

Could he become someone that was needed?

Could he create bonds, bonds that would make him stronger and would in turn make others stronger?

Could he do it?

Not to try would mean a definitive ending of his existence.

He would try, because he truly desired it.

_a new day, a new dawn, a new meaning._

Aware of what he was, trying to heal himself so he could be of worth, so he could be needed by someone –

– and then, when the bonds came – slowly, steadily, cautiously - they took him completely by surprise.

First, his siblings, tentatively reaching out to each other as though practicing something blind and only half-understood.

And a tender relationship had formed.

It was – so good – to be needed.

A floodgate opened.

To be needed, to be desired, to be required, to be wanted – it was a form of love.

_because when someone becomes a required part of you, that is love._

_when bonds are formed, there is a part of them in you, and so that meant there was a part of you in them._

Once he understood the door was not closed to him after all – and what an astounding, unbelievable realisation, the knowledge that he could be _more_ than what he was, and with every day he _became_ a little more, a little more connected to the world, a little more aware, a little more than the demon, blood-drenched murdered that he was; though that urge to kill within him would always be there, he knew that, but now he could distinguish between himself and the demon and he knew he could be _more –_

once he knew all that, he knew he needed more.

Protecting, defending others; it gave his life a new, worthwhile, wondrous and almost incomprehensible meaning.

So becoming Kazekage seemed only a natural step towards establishing that new bond.

He would tie the village to himself, tie himself to the village, not only loving himself anymore but loving everyone in it, too; even if they distrusted him, hated him, feared him – they would change too, just as he had.

Because that's what humans did; they evolved, they changed, they grew every day.

Just as his life had a meaning, so did theirs.

He would become someone who was needed by others.

His existence would be verified by life, not death.

There was still pain, of course – pain when one of his people died on a mission; pain when he acknowledged, late at night when nothing else stirred, that there was still a part of him that hurt from the past and would probably never heal and was still barely controllable and wanted to kill – but the pain was not overwhelming.

Rather than drowning in the newly named emotions, each one bumped off of the other and soothed him.

Emotions were human.

Being human meant he would be needed.

Yet there were still so many things he had left to learn, so many things he did not understand or could not identify – emotions and subtleties and names of things he recognised within and between other people but that he could not identify within himself.

He was not emotionless, but part of him did stay the same as before – the face he wore that many thought was a mask was not a mask, but a face he wore because he had been wearing it for so long he didn't know how else to wear it; it was the only kind that seemed to fit.

He was still learning to smile – to smile properly, like other people; not the half smiles or smirks his face knew, but laughter and the face one wore when true happiness was being felt.

Anger and pain and hatred and annoyance all knew his face very well, as well as the smooth expression he wore when he wasn't feeling anything in particular, but still he needed to understand happiness.

He knew a form of happiness; contentment – but he was sure it wasn't the same.

He felt contentment more like satisfaction; especially at five am when his desk and the four desks outside his office were completely free from paperwork, but that was not the kind of happiness he wanted to experience.

He wanted to kind that made Temari's eyes light up and her nose crinkle, and made Kankuro's voice boom out in a deep laugh – he still did not understand it, and there was something new in him, born when he was twelve years old and bleeding from the bruise in his forehead, that needed to understand everything.

So when a chance to understand happiness came, he took it, although the method was somewhat unorthodox and covered in green spandex.


	2. Chapter 2

How could he forget Rock Lee?

There were uneasy ties of blood there, although the Leaf Nin swore he bore no grudge (and really didn't seem the type to bear them anyway) and Gaara was sure he hadn't apologised for nearly tearing him apart and killing him – although there was another part of him that knew he shouldn't _have_ to because logically it didn't make sense to for him to feel the need to apologise for something that happened years ago when he was a different person and obviously Lee was completely healed, so –

When he looked closer at the new emotion and questioned both Temari and Kankuro, he indentified the feeling as guilt, and filed it away, and still didn't apologise because it seemed rather pointless and Lee probably wouldn't want him bringing up the subject of his own frail mortality, anyway.

He rarely saw Rock Lee, but when he did – maybe once or twice a year on official trips to Konoha, or three times if Lee's team took a mission close by Suna – he studied him, trying to discover what made him so…happy, all the time.

Eventually he realised it was not something that could be observed from a distance, and so began to travel to Konoha more frequently.

He saw Rock Lee every time.

Almost never up close, almost never able to talk to him.

The secrets of true happiness that Lee seemed to contain were closed to him.

So instead of wasting his time travelling to Konoha, he requested Rock Lee as a Taijutsu teacher in Suna, in exchange for a Wind Master who had worked next to Temari (he would never trade Temari, he knew that now).

Effectively he was killing two birds with one stone – using Rock Lee to strengthen his Genin and Chuunin ranks as well as to satisfy his own curiosity.

It didn't.

Rock Lee was there for a year and while his ninja gained wonderful amounts of information and training, Gaara was still left without answers; he still couldn't dissect what it was that made Lee so consistently exuberant.

But being next to so much noise, so much energy, so much brightness, strangely did not unsettle Gaara; it brought him instead a strange sense of peace.

He realised that a bond was being formed between him and Rock Lee.

When he queried the Leaf Nin about it, he was alarmed when tears streamed down from circular eyes and a thumb pointing upwards was brandished in his direction, Rock Lee declaring loudly that he was honoured and so, so happy –

_Happy?_ Gaara had interrupted.

_Yes, Gaara-san, happy!_

_This makes you happy?_

_Yes, Gaara-san! Of course!_

_This feeling, between us; this is happiness?_

_Yes, Gaara-san!_

_I make you happy?_

Lee faltered, and appeared to think. _Yes, Gaara-san. I had not thought of it that way, but, yes, I suppose – yes!_

_Rock Lee,_ Gaara enunciated clearly, trying to get used to the feeling and the definition of the feeling. _You make me happy._

He realised he must have said something strange when Lee went very red and spluttered.

But, he still looked happy, so Gaara decided that while what he had said might have sounded strange, it hadn't been _wrong._

He spent a little time each day with Rock Lee, and every the emotion became clearer to identify.

They ate lunch together, spoke together, sparred together, and when the time came for Lee to return to his village, there was something akin to regret within Gaara.

_Rock Lee,_ he asked. _We share a bond, now, do we not?_

Lee beamed and replied; _of course, Gaara-san! And we shall see each other again soon!_

Something unbidden in Gaara forced his hand up and out, towards the Leaf Nin.

Rock Lee stared at it for a moment before beaming and reaching out – taking his hand – he reached out – he took his hand – there _was_ a bond!

The warmth of the touch nearly shocked Gaara out of his skin.

Lee's hand was larger than his, the skin darker than his, the coiled power within the limb, trained for years in Taijutsu felt so much more powerful than him.

_To be touched – skin – warmth – wanted – felt – alien – good?_

He wondered what his hand felt like to Lee.

_We will see each other again,_ Gaara informed him; Lee grinned and saluted.

When he began the trip back to Konoha, Gaara was left with an unidentified, tearing sensation and a sense of quiet.

But the parting did not sadden him as he had thought it would.

After all, he would see Lee again.

Just the thought of that made him smile, so slightly, and happiness began to blossom within him like a flower, a lotus flower.


End file.
